


Just Breathe

by YourCupofCoffee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Gen, Nightmares, Pepper is honestly a mom, Sickfic, Tony is a good dad, Vomiting, possible emeto, sick!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourCupofCoffee/pseuds/YourCupofCoffee
Summary: Tony and Pepper invite Peter to spend the week at their vacation house during winter break, worried that he was going to burn out. Peter borrows Tony's old ice skates to check out the frozen pond behind the house, but when he skates too close to the center, everything goes wrong. One-Shot. Sickfic.





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Request: "Love your fics and I have a prompt! A good drowning fic is difficult to find but I believe you have the talent to pull it off. So here are the obligations: Peter is not wearing a suit so it happens on a normal day, maybe at a pool, or during a hike and Tony must be the one to rescue him. Extra points if Pepper is present. Have fun! :D"

“I’m glad you listened to me for once, and brought him.” Pepper smiled out the window at the figure tentatively wobbling across the pond’s slick surface. She brought her steaming mug to her lips and took a sip of the hot chocolate Tony had whipped up on the stovetop. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Peter’s feet almost shoot out from under him, his arms flailing in wild circles to catch his balance. Tony snorted into his own cup as the kid just barely avoided falling onto the ice. Seeing Peter teeter around on the pond was refreshing after watching him overwork himself with school and patrol for the past semester straight. Tony knew the kid must be stretching out the old skates, but hey, anything to get the kid away from schoolwork. In fact, he had specifically banned Peter from bringing anything of the sort.   

 

Tony owned a modest property out in Roxbury that his father had originally used for his more lucrative business dealings. Whenever Tony had gotten dragged along as a teenager, he was faced with the impossible of task of entertaining himself when he was too young for those meetings, but too old to play in the snow. Eventually he had taken to ice skating on the large pond behind the house whenever his father and his colleagues shut themselves in the study for hours on end. Tony had always found gliding across the smooth ice to be relaxing, so when Peter found his old skates in the upstairs guest room, Tony encouraged him to give it a shot.

 

He and Pepper had made a tradition of coming out to the home every year, during the week after Christmas, to relax together and decompress from the year’s stresses. A couple of weeks ago, she suggested bringing the kid along, commenting that the bags under Peter’s eyes were beginning to rival his own. Tony had to admit that he hadn't been so sure that bringing all five feet and eight inches of energetic teenager to their only break out of the whole year was such a good idea, but after finding Peter asleep at the desk in his workshop for the third time in a week, Tony knew Pepper was right.

 

“What do you mean for once? You know I listen to you at least half of the time,” Tony quipped, throwing a mini marshmallow at her from the little bowl on the table. It bounced off her olive sweater harmlessly, and fell onto the kitchen’s hardwood floor.

 

“Yeah, more like a quarter,” she smiled, rolling her eyes good-heartedly. Her long hair hung loosely around her shoulders, nearly touching the glass tabletop when she reached for the small bowl. Tony preferred it compared to the pristine, and almost painful looking, ponytails that Pepper usually wore around the tower.   

 

“A third, take it or leave it.” Pepper burst out laughing and threw several marshmallows at Tony. He made the point of catching one and popping it in his mouth before giving her a mischievous wink. Her eyes glittered with amusement, and Tony thought she was going to pelt him with more until she suddenly focused on something behind him.

  


“Oh, he just fell again.” Tony turned around in his chair to see Peter just starting to get to his feet again. His hand rubbing what Tony personally knew to be a sore backside after falling on the unforgiving ice too many times.

 

“He’ll get it. By the end of the week, the kid will be skating circles around both of us,” he said knowingly, turning back and taking a sip of his sugary drink. Tony looked up as he felt Pepper’s hand rest delicately on top of his other one.

 

“Really, Tony, I’m glad you brought him along,” she said contently, tracing invisible patterns on the back of his hand with her finger. “He just looked so exhausted.”

 

“The kid didn’t just look it. I told him that if I had to clean up one more puddle of drool on my workbench, then I was going to start following him around the tower with a squeegee.” Pepper snorted and swatted his hand playfully.

 

“Come on, you wouldn’t do that.”

 

“Maybe not, but I definitely could program DUM-E to do it. Old thing isn’t good for much else,” Tony said affectionately, unable to actually dislike the robot that had blasted him with a fire extinguisher more times than he could count. Pepper didn’t say anything, opting to fall into a comfortable silence instead.

 

Tony sipped at his hot chocolate, eyeing the empty place setting at the table. As much as he tried to hide it, Tony was starting to become concerned about the kid burning out with training, schoolwork, patrol, and, heck, just being a teenager all on his plate at once. With as tired as Peter looked, Tony hoped that the kid could find this place as relaxing as he did.    

 

* * *

Peter resisted the urge to swear when his feet flew out in front of him, making him land hard on his butt for what had to be the tenth time. He got onto his knees and shakily tried to stand, steadying himself with his fingertips on the ice. When Peter finally got to his feet, he tried to maintain his balance again, his arms held out slightly. He really thought that he was a lot better at this. Peter went ice skating with Ned and MJ a couple of times in Central Park, and he hadn’t fallen nearly as much. Turns out that ice skating is a lot more difficult when there isn’t a four foot wall that you can cling onto for dear life.

 

When Peter felt a bit more steady, he pushed off with his right foot and glided a little uncertainly around the edge of the pond. The skates were a little tight and he could feel the beginnings of a blister on his heel, but Peter didn't mind that much. It was weird not having anything that he absolutely _had_ to do. It almost made Peter feel uneasy, like he was going to remember some forgotten deadline at any moment that he would have to scramble to finish in time. He knew that it didn’t make any logical sense; he was hanging out with Pepper and Mr. Stark over Christmas break, where there wasn’t any homework, patrol, or decathlon practice, but he couldn’t help it. Though Peter had to admit that being outside was starting to clear his head a bit.

 

The air was brisk, and he was sure that his face was already flushed with the cold. Peter pulled his scarf up to cover his mouth and nose, breathing into the soft yarn to warm himself up. He teetered unsteadily to a stop, and looked around at all the snow with a small smile on his face. Peter always loved snow, especially the way the flakes delicately drifted toward the ground and made everything feel so still, even in a bustling city. The snow never stayed nice and white in Queens though; after a few hours it all turned into a miserable, dirty slush. The stuff that managed to stay frozen sat in blackened piles along the street, full of dirt and gravel. When he was younger, Peter liked to get up early on snowdays, before the city woke up, and just stare out at the spotless blanketing of snow, enjoying the peace that accompanied it. The snow surrounding the pond was the same, if not better.

 

There were at least four inches of it on the ground, and, other than his trail of footprints from the back deck to the pond, it was completely undisturbed. Birds were flitting between the branches of pine trees dotting the large property, sending a fresh dusting of snow floating to the ground from the shaken branches. The birds’ cheerful song was the only other sound outside, and Peter took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves.

 

When his head felt clearer, Peter pushed himself off and he did a few more unsteady laps around the edge of the pond. He looked over at the glossy ice at the center, untouched by his skates that had scratched up the edges of his personal rink. Feeling a bit more sure of himself, Peter glided toward the center, relishing as the ice under his skates went from a little jagged and uneven, to flawlessly smooth. He did a few precarious circles closer to the middle proudly, Peter looked at the house in the distance, mildly wondering if Mr. Stark could see how much better he was getting. He skated toward the middle and when he got there, Peter slid to a stop, smiling blissfully to himself. When he finally moved to push himself off again, Peter heard something that made his blood run cold.

 

Sheer terror gripped him as he froze in place, desperately trying not to move. He could make out several cracks webbing outward in the ice from his feet. Peter's spidey sense was screaming at him to skate as fast as he could to the edge, but he knew that that much movement could send him through the ice. Peter looked back at the house, and slowly reached into his coat pocket for his phone. If he called Mr. Stark, then maybe he could do something before he fell. Peter swallowed thickly, he didn’t even want to think about it. His stomach dropped when his fingers met fleece and not much else. He looked regretfully at the black backpack holding his shoes, and his phone, sitting on the ground at the edge of the pond. Another crack shot between his feet as he inadvertently shifted his weight, and Peter pulled the scarf down from his mouth with a shaky breath. He knew he didn't have much time.

 

“Mr. Stark! Pepper!” Peter yelled, praying they would somehow hear him. A sinking feeling began to settle in his stomach, the house was at least a hundred yards away. He could see movement in an upper window, and that made the situation all the more cruel. They were so close, and yet so far away. “Please, I need he-”

 

Peter was cut off when the ice suddenly gave way, and he plunged into the freezing water. He clawed frantically at the water and kicked wildly to get back to the surface. Peter barely managed to break the surface when he desperately gasped for air, and grabbed the edge of the ice. He braced both arms on the ice and tried to pull himself out, but Peter fell back into the icy water when it gave way again. He frantically kept trying, but the ice continued to crumble under his gloved hands without fail, sending him into the pond again and again. Real panic began to set in when it was starting to get more difficult to keep his head above the water.

 

“Mr. Stark! Tony! Pepper, please!”  

 

His clothes were starting to feel heavy as water soaked into them, so Peter tried taking layers off to keep him afloat. After pulling off both gloves with his teeth, he fumbled with the zipper on his coat, but he couldn't get his fingers to cooperate in the numbing cold. When Peter finally got the zipper down, he shrugged it off and threw it onto the ice. His legs were aching from treading water, and Peter came to the horrific realization that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer. The skates were weighing him down the most, so he tried kicking them off, but the tight laces didn’t let them budge. Peter tried raising his knee to reach the laces, but he could hardly reach them without sending himself underwater, let alone get his fingers to work enough to untie them.

 

Tears began to blur his vision as he tried to support himself on the ice again, only for it to break away underneath his arm. His legs were burning and Peter could tell they were starting to slow down against his will. The fear that grappled his heart right then was colder than the water he was struggling in, colder than anything he had ever felt. But it didn’t numb him mercifully like the water did, instead it filled him with a gut wrenching ache for everything and everyone he had taken for granted. What he wouldn’t give to see Aunt May again, or Ned, or even Mr. Stark who was sitting warmly inside, unaware of what was happening to him a mere couple hundred feet away

 

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter voice broke helplessly. _“Please, I can’t- Please help me!”_  His head suddenly sank below the surface as his legs slowed to a near stop, and he frantically thrashed his way to the surface. Peter only had the time to suck in a breath before he was sinking again, and this time he didn’t have the energy to make it to the surface again, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. His lungs were on fire as he tried to kick his way back up, but looked like he fell several feet short as he opened his eyes under the water. Peter could feel his body trying to take a breath, but he clenched his mouth shut. Black was beginning to line the edges of his vision and, suddenly, his body convulsed and sucked in the freezing water against his will.

 

* * *

Tony heaved the suitcases onto the bed, and unzipped them before grabbing a stack of his jeans out of his much lighter case. He stowed them in the dresser at the foot of the bed. Pepper walked in after him holding both their mugs and set them down on the nightstand, turning to her much larger bag.

 

“Seriously Tony, I don’t know how you can pack for an entire week and only fill half of your suitcase,” she said, unzipping her luggage and heaving the burdened lid open onto the duvet.

 

“You see, the difference between us, Pep, is that I only pack the essentials.” He returned to the burdened bed and lifted his sweaters out of the suitcase. “You, on the other hand, pack your fruity bubble bath, a dozen hair products, and enough fuzzy socks for a hoard of small children,” Tony said, sliding the dresser drawer shut with his sweaters inside.

 

“You better watch it, or I’m not gonna let you borrow any of my socks when your feet get cold, and we both know they will,” Pepper laughed, still standing helplessly in front of her suitcase, trying to decide where to begin.

 

“Alright, I’ll give as long as I get to wear the ones with the little penguins on them.” Tony grabbed the few remaining articles of clothing and put them away, finished unpacking before Pepper had really started.

 

“They’re all yours,” she laughed, tossing the bundle Tony’s way. He caught it easily, and walked up behind her, gently wrapping his arms around her waist.

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Tony said smoothly before pressing his lips to her neck briefly. “I don’t think I’d actually be able to fit _everything_ I needed for this trip in that case.” Pepper covered his arms with her own.

“Oh really? And why's that?” She purred, turning in his embrace to wrap her arms around Tony’s neck.

 

“Actually, I might be wrong,” Tony murmured, brushing a piece of hair away from her face. “How flexible are you again?” She laughed before kissing him deeply, her soft lips intertwining with his own. Tony felt himself being pulled closer to her as she brushed her lips along his jawline delicately. Suddenly, he felt Pepper go rigid in his arms.

 

“Pep, what’s wro-”

 

“Where’s Peter?” Tony’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned around to see what Pepper was looking at out the bedroom window. At first glance, nothing looked out of the ordinary, and he would have assumed the kid had come back to the house without them noticing, but then something black on the ice caught his eye. All of the blood suddenly rushed to his feet.

 

_Peter’s coat._

 

Where the hell did he go? Why would the kid just take his coat off when it was easily below thirty degrees outside? Tony squinted at the unusually dark patch on the ice. That was weird, it almost looked like a-

 

“Oh, Jesus, _no_ ,” Tony breathed, the bundle of socks falling from his grasp and landing soundlessly on the rug. He sprinted out into the hallway and clambered down the wooden stairs, leaving Pepper at the window.

 

Tony’s mind was racing. How long ago did Peter fall in? Was he already underwater? Tony couldn’t tell from the window and he prayed that he wasn’t. But if Peter was, he may already be- No he couldn’t think like that. He just had to get to him. He _had_ to.

 

When he finally got the the bottom of the steps, Tony tore through the kitchen and threw the backdoor open, spinning the metal frame of his arc reactor. The nanobots covered his body in seconds as Tony ran out onto the porch, and the display in his helmet glowed to life. He leapt off of the stairs and his thrusters blazed, sending him high into the air toward the pond.

 

“Alright, FRIDAY, where is he?”

 

“There is minimal visibility from above the ice. My sensors cannot detect him,” the AI reported evenly as Tony flew above the pond. His mouth went dry as he looked at the broken ice; his suspicions had been right, it was a hole.

 

“Let's fix that.” Tony dipped into a nosedive, and went head first through the ice a few meters away from the opening. Crashing into the kid definitely wouldn't help things.

 

“Activating thermal cameras.” His screen went bright blue as the display shifted in the icy water. The corner of the screen read thirty-four degrees.

 

Tony scanned the water under the ice frantically, praying for any sign of him, but his screen remained horribly blue. He looked down toward the bottom of the pond and a rush of contradictory emotions flooded him. Elated that he had found the kid, but devastated that Peter wasn't moving. He propelled his suit toward the red and orange figure a little deeper down, and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Tony shot through the hole in the ice and into the air before landing, and laying him down on the ground. He tried to ignore the panic welling in his chest, but Tony couldn't help the strangled noise that escaped his lips when he took in his limp body.

 

Peter's lips were blue, standing out vividly against his pale face, whether it was from the cold or a lack of oxygen, Tony didn't know.

 

“Vitals, FRIDAY,” he choked out. A stream of nanobots extended out from Tony's suit and curled around Peter's exposed wrist.

 

“His heart is beating at fifty beats per minute and his blood pressure is very low. Mr. Parker is not breathing, immediate CPR is advised. If his airways are not reopened, his heart will begin to experience cardiac dysrhythmias.” Tony gripped the collar of Peter's sweater and tore it open easily.

 

“English, please.” He gave Peter's long sleeve the same treatment, leaving him shirtless in the snow.

 

“His heart will begin to beat irregularly due to a lack of oxygen. Once that begins, his heart will need to be restarted-”

 

“Alright, I've heard enough,” Tony said tightly, kneeling in the snow beside him. He retracted the nanobots from his arms, Tony didn't want to crush his ribs. He positioned his hands on the kid's chest and started compressions.

 

“One hundred compressions per minute is optimal. Administer compressions thirty at a time with two life-saving breaths in between.”

 

Tony continued pumping onto Peter's chest, his head jerking in the snow from the movement.

 

“Come on, buddy. Come on, Peter,” Tony said desperately. This had to work. This couldn't be it. Not yet.

 

_28\. 29. 30._

 

His face plate disappeared, and Tony pinched Peter's nose before blowing air into the kid's mouth with two quick puffs. His arms were flushed from the cold and they were already starting to ache, but Tony didn't even think about slowing down. No amount of sore muscles could make him stop.

 

_15\. 16. 17._

 

“Tony's giving him CPR now.” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Pepper, who had hurried outside behind him, a phone pressed to her ear. “No he's not breathing yet. I don't know how long.” Pepper knelt beside Peter, pinning the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

 

_24\. 25. 26._

 

“Just breathe for us, baby. Come on,” Pepper begged, placing her palm on Peter's cheek.

 

_28\. 29. 30._

 

Tony pinched his nose shut and gave him more air before giving him more compressions. His body was lifeless in the snow, making tears well in Tony's eyes as panic swirled through him.

 

“Come on, Peter, damn it. _Breathe_!”

 

He shouldn't have let the kid go out on the ice alone, this was all his fault. Sure, Tony used to skate out here by himself all the time, but what did his father care? If he fell through, it would have probably been easier on him. More time to focus on work.

 

_5\. 6. 7._

 

But had Tony really done any better than his father? He let the kid skate alone on a pond that he hadn't been on in much more than a decade, and he never even checked on him. So much for ending that cycle of shame.

 

_11\. 12. 13._

 

What would he tell May? _How_ could he? There weren't enough words in the English language to come up with a good reason to explain why he had let her nephew drown.

 

_18\. 19. 20._

 

“Mr. Parker's heart rate is beginning to become irregular. If it continues to destabilize for much longer, a defibrillator is going to become necessary.”

 

“ _Breathe, Pete. Come on, damn it!”_ Tony shouted, panic sending his adrenaline through the roof. His face was flushed and soaked with tears, but he didn't care. Peter was all that mattered. He just needed to breathe. _Breathe!_

 

28\. 29. 30.

 

Tony gave him another two breaths of air and water began pooling in Peter's mouth.

 

“Water's coming out!” Pepper exclaimed into the phone, turning Peter's head so it could drain out. “Yep, I'm doing it now.”

 

Suddenly, he took a gasping breath and began coughing violently into the snow, bringing up even more water. Tony thought he was going to collapse.

 

“That's it, kiddo. That's it,” Tony said, rolling Peter onto his side and patting his back. The kid kept coughing harshly, and curled up into a fetal position. For a minute, Tony was worried he'd bring up lung, but then he finally stopped before spitting into the snow. Now that he could breathe, the kid realised he wasn't alone.

 

“Mr. Stark?” Tony didn't have the chance to respond before Peter had sat up and wrapped his arms around him tightly, sob tearing from his throat. Tony sent the rest of his suit back into the reactor so he could hold him, and when the brisk air met the rest of his body, he did just that.

 

“It's okay, we're here. You're alright,” Tony said gently, returning the embrace to the crying teen in his arms as snow started soaking into his jeans. His condolences didn't seem to have an effect on him at all; if anything, it made Peter sob even harder. Not that Tony could blame him, the poor kid had to have been terrified.

 

“Y-you came. I-I thought I was-”

 

“Of course I did, kiddo,” Tony hushed, not wanting to face what nearly _did_ happen. “Now let's get you back inside. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing.” Peter didn't acknowledge his words, but continued to bawl into Tony's shirt.

 

“He's breathing, I'll call you back to give you an update when he's warmed up,” Pepper said breathlessly into her phone. “Okay, we will. Thanks, Bruce, see you then.” Pepper slid her phone into her pocket, and turned to Tony. “Bruce is on his way with the quinjet. He said he'll be here in about an hour.”

 

“Okay, good,” Tony replied, looping his arms around the kid before standing up. If it weren't for the adrenaline, he didn't think he'd be able to carry the kid; he was a lot heavier than Tony thought. When Peter registered what was happening, he clung to Tony for dear life,  burying his face in the crook of his neck. The kid was shivering violently in his arms, so he didn't waste any time getting back to the house. By the time Tony lugged himself up the porch steps, his muscles were trembling from the strain. His adrenaline had begun to abandon him halfway to the house, but Tony pushed himself to keep going. He had to get Peter inside.

 

When he finally staggered into the kitchen, Tony helped Peter sit at the table, while Pepper ran up the stairs. The air felt wonderfully warm against his numbing arms and face. Moments later, she came back down with a stack of clothing and a fluffy blanket, setting the pile on the table.

 

“Peter, honey, we need to get you into some warm clothes,” Pepper said gently to the sniffling teen, unfolding a thick sweater. When he nodded, she slipped it over his head while Tony started untying the skates on his feet. As he pulled them off, Tony removed his soaked socks and put Peter's freezing feet in his hands to warm them up a little. Pepper tossed him a pair of her fuzzy socks and Tony caught them before slipping them on Peter's feet. When she unfolded the sweatpants on the table, Peter shook his head, his face somehow more flushed than it already was.

 

“Uh, wait I-”

 

“Come on, kid. Your jeans are almost frozen and soaking wet. What's the matter?” Tony asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly. He doubted Peter could even feel his legs, why was he hesitating now? The question seemed to embarrass him even more, increasing Tony's confusion.

 

“Peter, would you like Tony to help you with that instead? I can step out,” Pepper asked knowingly, to which the kid nodded.

 

_Oh._

 

As promised, she walked out of the kitchen and around the corner, giving Peter some privacy. Tony helped Peter out of the stiff jeans and boxers, eyes trained on the cream colored ceiling. He handed Peter the fresh clothing and  helped him keep his balance while he pulled the pants up.

 

“Can I come back in?”

 

“Yup, all clear,” Tony called back. “So what did Bruce say we needed to do? Should I run him a hot bath?”

 

“No,” Pepper answered as she opened a cupboard and took out a mug. “Not yet, anyway. Bruce said that would warm him up too quickly.”

 

“So what do we do then?” Pepper poured some of the hot chocolate from the stove into the cup, and handed it to Peter. She picked up the fluffy throw and shook it open before draping it around his trembling shoulders.

 

“We bundle him up, and we wait.”

 

* * *

Bundling the kid up had been the easy part, it was the waiting that was driving Tony insane.

 

The color had started returning to Peter's face pretty quickly, and that made Tony feel a bit better. But that relief was short lived. He’d only had about a quarter of the warm drink before his face went pale again, but it wasn't from the cold. Not long after, the poor kid was throwing up in the bathroom down the hall, tears streaming down his face.

 

Tony could see that Peter was struggling to keep his eyes open beside him. They had all crammed together on the couch nearest to the fireplace in the living room with Peter snuggled in between the two of them. Peter had his head on Tony's thigh, and his legs draped across Pepper's lap, where she was massaging them gently. He ran his fingers idly through Peter's drying hair, doing his best to help the kid relax. Even though most of the tears had stopped for the time being, Tony could tell Peter was still more than a little shaken up from the whole ordeal. But who could blame him? The kid nearly hadn't made it.

 

Peter coughed wetly into the crook of his elbow for several seconds before relaxing against him again.

 

“I like these socks, where’d they come from?”

 

“They're a small part of Pep's hoard, but don't forget to thank her, she sacrificed those penguin socks for you and she loves ‘em.” Tony shot Pepper a wink that Peter couldn't see, she gave him an equally amused look back.

 

“Don't let Tony fool you, those are actually _his_ favorite,” she smirked, sending Peter into watery bouts of laughter, that soon dissolved into coughs.

 

“That's funny, Mr. Stark. I didn't take you for a fluffy socks kinda guy,” Peter said once he got his breath back. “I know I definitely am.” He wiggled his toes contently beneath the fabric.

 

“Well that wasn't exactly meant to be public knowledge,” Tony said in mock irritation, shooting Pepper a playful glare. “But it looks like I'll have to settle for the fox socks tonight.”

 

The front door opened in the middle of Tony's sentence, amusing their sudden guest.

 

“So sorry to interrupt such riveting conversation,” Bruce said with a small smile, carrying in a black bag with him.

 

“Bruce, thank you so much for coming,” Pepper smiled, waving him over to the couch. He set his bag on the ottoman and snapped it open, retrieving a stethoscope.

 

“Not a problem. Peter, can you sit up for me, please?” Bruce asked, popping the earpieces in. He nodded and Tony helped the kid sit up.  Bruce put his hand under Peter's sweater and placed the diaphragm on his chest.

 

“Breathe in. Out,” he instructed, moving the piece to the other side of his chest. “In. Out. Good. Okay, I'm going to check from behind.” Bruce removed his hand and wrapped his arm around to reach Peter's back, placing the piece underneath the knit material again. “One more time for me. Perfect.” Bruce took the stethoscope out and hung it around his neck.

 

“Okay, I'm hearing a lot of crackling when you breathe, Peter. So there is still some fluid in your lungs.”

 

“Am I going to be okay?” Peter asked, the uncertainty in his quaking voice made Tony’s heart squeeze.

 

“Well, you're breathing now, so the most immediate danger has been averted, but you aren't out of the woods yet-”

 

“ _What?_ What do you mean?” Tony couldn't help the sudden outburst. He was barely able to handle the worry during the rescue, and now there's more?

 

“Respiratory infection is going to be our biggest concern, since his lungs have been exposed to any bacteria that may have been in the water. Now the extreme cold increases risk for pneumonia by a great deal. If it comes to that, the infection can become very serious.”

 

Tony didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. Thankfully, Pepper jumped in before the silence became too prolonged.

 

“When will we know that we're in the clear?”

 

“Only time will tell, but Peter's healing factor gives him an advantage,” Bruce said, placing a supportive hand on Peter's knee. “I'll set you up with an oxygen mask for the night to compensate for the water in your lungs, okay? Odds are, you'll cough the rest of it up and then it should be easier to breathe.” Bruce pulled thermometer from his breast pocket, and gave it to Peter to put in his mouth. He took it back when it started beeping.

 

“96.9 degrees, good. You're starting to come back around, your temperature should be back to normal in a couple hours.” He turned to Tony. “I'll stay the night in case anything develops, the quinjet has more equipment in case it's needed.”

 

“Pick a room, there's plenty of empty ones that should work,” Tony said, rubbing Peter's back when he put his face in his hands tiredly.

 

* * *

_Peter grasped at the edge of the ice to keep his head above the freezing water, but the closer his fingers got to it, the farther it moved away. He opened his mouth to scream, but water rushed in making him sputter._

 

_A hand appeared and Peter grappled at it desperately, terrified of going under again. He blinked several times and saw that it was Mr. Stark that had grabbed him. Just as he felt himself being lifted out, something fastened around his ankle and yanked him from the man's grasp. He was sinking deep and the light above him faded to nothing. It was dark. He couldn't breathe._

 

_Peter kicked wildly, but he was still sinking. No matter how hard he fought. He was still sinking. His lungs were burning and he was dragged deeper._

 

_He couldn't breathe._

 

_He suddenly sucked in the water and breathed it out again, but it brought no relief to his aching lungs._

 

_Peter was suffocating._

 

_He was dying._

 

_Hecouldn'tbreathehecouldn'tbreathehecouldn'tbreathe-_

 

Peter's eyes snapped open with a gasp, chest heaving desperately in the dark. He sat up and pulled the oxygen mask off his face, throwing it down onto the bed. A sob tore from his throat, and he clamped a hand over his mouth, not wanting to wake anyone up. Peter cursed the heart rate machine that was betraying him, beeping so wildly beside his bed that he was sure everyone in the house could hear it.

 

Peter’s whole body was shivering, and despite being under several blankets, he just couldn't seem to get warm. His stomach was stirring uneasily, and he swallowed thickly as sweat continued to chill his skin. Peter tried to take a deep breath to calm down, but that only sent him into a coughing fit. When he finally caught his breath, Peter looked up to see Pepper sticking her head into the room, electric lantern in hand.

 

“Are you okay, honey?” He hurriedly scrubbed the tear tracks from his face as she walked over to the offending machine.

 

“Y-yeah, I'm fine,” Peter answered, despising the little shake in his voice.

 

“Your heart rate is a little high. Do you want me to get Bruce?” He shook his head vehemently, the last thing he needed was more people to see him like this. Pepper sighed and set the lantern down on the nightstand, its warm light casting soft shadows onto the walls. She sat on the edge of the bed beside him, and put her hand on Peter's. It was trembling beneath hers, but he couldn't get it to stop.

 

“Nightmare?” He nodded, not trusting his voice to stay even. Tears began welling in his eyes again, he could breathe now, but the panic and cold terror was still sitting heavily in his chest.

It was taking everything he had not to break down. Pepper gently pulled him into a hug and Peter let himself be held. He buried his face in her shoulder and sniffled.

 

“You’re really warm, do you feel sick?” Peter nodded again, and took a cautious breath, not wanting to start coughing again. She smelled like vanilla and he felt her rest her chin on the top of his head, just like Aunt May did. And with that thought, the dam burst.

 

She tightened her grip around him and held him securely as he choked out a sob. Fear and anxiety won out against the embarrassment, so Peter didn't try to stop himself. He just felt so tired and weak.

 

“That's it,” she whispered. “You can cry, if you need to. That must have been terrifying, sweetie.” Peter nodded against her shirt and hugged her tight, almost afraid she'd let go. He hiccuped and started coughing harshly, leaving him gasping for air in between, but they wouldn't stop coming. Pepper loosened her grip and moved a little to give him some room, hitting Peter on the back. He missed her embrace as soon as it left.

 

This coughing fit was relentless, and Peter gratefully accepted the tissues Pepper pressed into his hands. He tried to spit the phlegm coming up into the tissue, but that just made him gag and his stomach clenched angrily. Peter didn't have much time to react before the coughs turned into a heave, and, to his absolute horror, sent vomit spewing from his mouth. Pepper flinched away from him once she realised what had happened, but she had been caught off guard just as much as Peter and didn't move in time. Her right pant leg had taken the brunt of it. Tears blurred Peter's vision when he saw it, and buried his face in his hands, not wanting to see the disgusted looked on Pepper's face. She had been kind enough to hold him while he cried, and that was how he repaid her?

 

“I-I'm so sorry,” he hiccuped miserably. God, he was so _gross._

 

“Oh, honey, it's okay. It was just an accident, I'm not upset,” Pepper soothed. The kindness in her voice made him want to start crying all over again. “I'm going to go get Bruce, okay? Just to make sure you're alright.” Peter nodded and wiped his face with a fresh tissue. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before getting up, and stepping out into the hallway.

 

* * *

When Tony heard the beeping across the hall, he moved to go check on Peter, but Pepper stopped him with a gentle hand.

 

“No, you're exhausted, just rest,” she whispered as she slipped out of bed. Tony didn't argue, his body felt like lead after all the stress, and carrying Peter the length of a football field hadn't helped. Just as his eyes were starting to drift shut, he heard sobs coming from Peter's room. Tony quickly got out of bed, intent on comforting the kid, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw Pepper holding him to her chest. She gave him a sad look before reassuring Peter that it was okay to cry.

 

He didn't go inside the bedroom, not wanting to overwhelm him, and instead leaned against the wall in the hallway. Tony grimaced at the painful sounding coughs that rattled his chest for at least a minute straight. He rested his head against the wall and didn't realize that he had started to doze until he realised Pepper was speaking.

 

“-to make sure you're alright.” The floorboards creaked and Tony gave her a questioning look when she appeared, seeing her pants.

 

“He got sick. I'm going to get Bruce,” Pepper whispered before heading downstairs to where the doctor was sleeping.

 

Tony nodded, and walked into the room, rapping on the doorframe with his knuckle lightly.

 

“Hey, kiddo, I heard you weren't feeling well.” Peter nodded before mumbling,

 

“Sorry about your bed.”

 

“Don't worry about it. It's not even that bad, see?” Tony pulled the top blanket off of the bed, and, thankfully, it hadn't managed to soak through just yet. He wadded up the afflicted bedding up and tossed it into the corner before turning to Peter's dresser. “You are going to need a new shirt, though.” He grabbed a t-shirt and brought it over to Peter. The kid had just pulled the new one on when Bruce came in. Tony gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before moving to give Bruce room the work. He retreated to the other side of the room where Pepper had just walked in, wearing fresh pajama pants, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before kissing her temple.

 

“Your chest is sounding a little more congested,” Bruce reported, his rumpled hair sticking up at all angles around the stethoscope. “But I'm more concerned about a possible fever.” He removed the stethoscope and traded it for a thermometer. “Yeah, that's what I thought,” Bruce sighed when it beeped. Tony didn't like the way he said it.

 

“How high is it?”

 

“102.4 degrees. We'll have to monitor it, his temperature could go down on it's own, but it might spike if it's pneumonia,” Bruce said, picking up the oxygen mask that had fallen onto the floor before helping Peter put it back on. He didn't acknowledge the plastic being fastened over his face, and his eyes were drooping closed from what Tony assumed had to be exhaustion.

Tony felt like he had been run over by a truck, and he wasn't even the one who had almost died.

 

“So what can we do?”

 

“We'll start with some cold compresses and hopefully it'll go down.”

 

It didn't go down.

 

During the next hour, Peter gradually became more restless, even with Tony keeping his forehead covered with cold washcloths. When Peter’s face scrunched up and a whimper escaped his lips, Tony looked up to Bruce for help from his place on the edge of the bed. He took the thermometer the Bruce offered him and when it beeped, he dropped it as if it had scalded him.

 

“Tony, what is it?” Pepper asked, who was sitting on the other side of Peter.

 

“105.2 degrees.”

 

“We need to get him into a cold bath. _Now,”_ Bruce said, getting up from an armchair and removed his mask while Tony peeled the blankets back.

 

“I'll run it.” Pepper hurried out into the hall.

 

“We're going to have to carry him, he's going to be too out of it to walk.”

 

“I'll get his legs,” Tony said, as Bruce looped his arms around Peter's torso. When they lifted him off the bed, Peter started to struggle frightfully.

 

“No...please. I just- _no,”_ he whimpered.

 

“Hold onto him, Tony, we don't want to drop him.” Tony nodded and tightened his hold around the kid's moving legs as they got into the hallway. Tony shouldered the bathroom door open and they lowered him into the filling tub as gently as they could. As soon as the cold water touched him, Peter started thrashing and desperately trying to get out, clawing for the edges and sending water splashing onto the tiles.

 

“ _No! I can't breathe- I can't-”_ Bruce pushed down on his shoulders to stop him from getting out, but the kid was strong and the doctor was having a hard time keeping him down. Realizing holding Peter's ankles wouldn't be much help, Tony helped him keep the kid sitting. It was obvious Peter didn't know where he was, he was openly sobbing in the water and gasping for air.

 

“Peter, honey, you're okay,” Pepper assured over the chaos, but Peter didn't register her words.

 

“Mr. Stark! Pepper! Help me, please! _”_ He cried helplessly, making Tony's heart shatter.

 

_Peter thinks he’s in the pond._

 

He wasn't going to let him go through it alone again.

 

“Move, Bruce,” Tony said, stepping into the cold water behind Peter.

 

“Tony, what are you-”

 

He braced himself for the shock and sat down in the water with a sharp breath, wrapping his arms around the struggling teen.

 

“ _Tony! Pepper, please!”_

 

“I'm right here, kiddo,” he said into his ear, pulling Peter's back against his chest gently. “You're safe. We're not in the pond.” The kid kept struggling against the arms restraining him, not understanding the words, so Tony kept repeating them, hoping it would eventually get through the feverish haze.

 

Peter kept calling out for them, begging for help, and it nearly made Tony cry. Those were the pleas that no one had heard, that no one answered. He couldn't imagine how afraid Peter had been, knowing no one was coming. Tony blinked away the moisture and held him securely. Peter wasn't struggling as hard after tiring himself out, but he still hadn't calmed down.

 

Tony could feel Pepper and Bruce staring at him, not that he could blame them. He was sitting in a tub full of freezing water in his pajamas with his intern. If it weren't for the circumstances, it would have been comical. Pepper was the first to recover, and she moved to turn the faucet off.

 

“Peter, I'm right here,” Tony repeated for the dozenth time. Something must have finally clicked, because all of the tension suddenly drained out of his muscles.

 

“Mr. Stark?” He whimpered, turning his head slightly.

 

“Yep, kiddo. I'm right here.” Peter relaxed against him and let out a shaky breath.

 

“Y-you're here.”

 

“I'm here,” Tony reaffirmed, giving him a quick  squeeze.

 

Bruce stepped out and returned with the thermometer Tony had abandoned on the bed before slipping it in his mouth.

 

“104.5, that's better. Give it another half an hour, and the fever should be back to manageable levels,” Bruce said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Pepper moved and sat on the edge of the tub by Tony, and put a hand on Bruce's arm.

 

“Why don't you go back to bed? We'll take care of it from here,” Pepper offered, he looked exhausted. She looked at her watch with a yawn, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning.

 

“Yeah, okay. Shout if you guys need something,” Bruce said as he left the room. She smiled at Peter, who was starting to doze against Tony.

 

“We will.” She started running her fingers through Tony’s hair. He looked much more worse off than Bruce, and she would have sent him to bed instead, but he wasn't really in a place to do that.

 

“How did you know that would work?”

 

“I didn't. I just… I just couldn't let him go through that again,” Tony said sadly. “He thought he was drowning, Pep. I wasn't there for him before, I-”

 

“Yes you were, Tony. You were there when it mattered.” When he didn't reply, she knew she was right. Tony blamed himself for too much already, there wasn't any need to lengthen that list.

 

She leaned down and pressed her lips to the top of Tony's head before resting her hand on his shoulder. Water trickled down his arm as he moved it to hold her hand, leaving one arm wrapped around Peter's torso. Pepper continued to play with Tony's hair and his grip on her hand gradually loosened.

 

When they hit the thirty minute mark, Pepper got up and stretched her sore legs. She pulled the plug to let the water out and smiled softly at Peter, who had fallen asleep against Tony. Amusement tugged at the corner of her mouth when she realized Tony was fast asleep too, his cheek pressed against the top of Peter's head.

 

* * *

Peter scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand as he stepped down the stairs. He could hear soft voices coming from the kitchen, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

 

He had woken up feeling a little sluggish and coughs still racked his chest, but it wasn't as difficult to breathe. The pajamas he was wearing definitely weren't the ones he had gone to bed in, but he couldn't figure out why. Peter remembered Mr. Stark helping him into a new shirt after getting sick, but that wasn't even the one he had on now. He coughed into his sleeve as he reached the bottom and the voices stopped.

 

“Peter?” Pepper called from the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and saw that her and Bruce were drinking coffee.

 

“Hey, you guys,” he answered, trying to tame his bedhead.

 

“How are you feeling? We thought you were going to sleep all afternoon,” she grinned.

 

“Better,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting between them at the table. “Wait, what time is it?” Now that he thought about it, there was a decent amount of daylight outside.

 

“Just past two, but don't worry, it's good you got the sleep. It lets your healing factor work the most optimally,” Bruce added. “The pneumonia should be gone in a couple days.” Peter nodded and took the glass of water Pepper offered him gratefully.

 

“Would you like something to eat?”

 

“Yes, please.” Peter hadn't eaten since before they had arrived at the vacation home the day before. That felt like an eternity ago now.

 

“Where's Mr. Stark?” Peter asked as she got up and opened the refrigerator.

 

“Asleep on the couch, I think he was a lot more tired than he led on.”

 

“Still?” That was weird. Mr. Stark was always the first one awake whenever he stayed at the tower. Now if that was because he was a morning person or because he had been awake all night, Peter wasn't sure.

 

“Yesterday took a lot out if him, honey. Tony doesn't always show it, but he cares a lot about you. He was scared to death when he saw that you fell in,” Pepper said, opening a can of soup and pouring in into a saucepan.

 

“Really?” Peter looked out toward the living room, warmth blooming in his chest.

 

“I'd say so. He jumped into a tub of freezing water for you last night,” Bruce chuckled into his drink.

 

“What? Why?” What the heck happened last  night?

 

“Your fever got really high, so we put you in a cold bath to cool you down, but the fever had already made you delirious. So when we got you in the tub, you freaked out,” he explained. Peter felt heat rising in his cheeks, he had thought that was a dream. “You thought you were drowning again, so he got in to calm you down.”

 

“Oh.” Peter didn't know what else to say, embarrassment and gratitude swirling in his stomach.

 

“Afterward, he helped you out of the wet clothes and sat with you for most the night while you slept. I couldn't get him to come to bed. He ate breakfast with us this morning, but went right back to sleep afterward,” Pepper commented. “You like grilled cheese, right?”

 

“That made up half of my diet freshman year. I love ‘em,” he said easily, thankful for the topic change. Peter had figured that Mr. Stark enjoyed his company since he invited him to the tower often, but to hear that the man actually cared for him meant more than any of them could ever know.

 

“I thought I smelled something good cooking in here,” Mr. Stark said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He hadn't made it more than a few steps into the kitchen before Peter got up from the table, and, before he could think better of it, crashed into him, wrapping his arms around his midsection.  

 

“Whoa, nice to see you too, kiddo,” he said out of surprise, returning the embrace. “What's gotten into you?” Peter shook his head slightly, and he thankfully seemed to understand. It was unspoken, but everyone in the room heard it all the same.

 

_Thank you._


End file.
